Pain Works Just as Well as Soda
by mandaree1
Summary: (Sequel to "Soda and Sugar") Rachel's boredom gets the better of her when she decides to tag along on a teen retrieval mission.


**Disclaimer: I** **don't own Codename; Kids Next Door!**

 **Title: Pain Works Just as Well as Soda**

 **Summary: Rachel's boredom gets the better of her when she decides to tag along on a teen retrieval mission.**

 **Warnings: Surgery, stitches, blood, slight mentions of suicide, illusions to alcoholism, KND style.**

 **...**

Kids say decomissioning is the toughest job in the entire business. Numbuh 86 disagrees with that statement.

It ain't a hard job, in terms of joining up. All you need is a reason, a need for vengeance, and Heaven knows plenty of operatives (brothers and sisters and sons and daughters and so much more) die nasty deaths on the field every day, and that usually does the trick.

(Don't be so modest, Fanny. How many have slipped away from under your knife, blissfully unaware of it?)

Lots of kids ask. Numbuh 86 makes them wait. There has to be some time past the grief, some time for rationality. If the hatred burns bright in their eyes even then, she approves of them and that's final.

No, it ain't hard. It's too easy, if anything.

It's not uncommon for medics like Fanny to "switch sides", no matter what they tell you. You can only bandage so many boo-boos and bury so many failures before you go batty.

They say decomissioning is the darkest side of the Kids Next Door, and she might be convinced to agree to it. Just as many with fire in their eyes put a blaster to their heads or throw themselves into a spike pit. They almost never manage it- as there are safety precautions in place- but it's Numbuh 86 who takes these children ('cause they really are just that) and puts the plunger to their face. Who makes them think their comrade died like one of the many who are claimed by the high accidental death rate kids seem to undergo.

It hurts the mind. It hurts the soul. It hurts that she can never give such incriminating details in a report to Numbuh 362.

No. Like they say, this _is_ the dark side. Numbuh 362 signed up for something much different. It's her pain alone to bear as head of her craft. Not to say Numbuh 362 doesn't shoulder her fair share of burdens. No, far from it. It can't be easy; being the one who contacts the parents with a lie on her tongue.

So, she supposes, marching up the steps to give her report, finding out about an operative pulling through successfully from surgery will most likely do her some good, even if said operative is a stupid boy who'll probably be on that gurney again before the month is up.

Numbuh 362 is decidedly bored-looking as Numbuh 86 approaches. Sitting in her chair, a scowl on her face, chin propped up on her fist. If it weren't for the whole image factor, she'd probably be swinging her legs.

Trouble always brews when she's like this. It's usually when she goes off on a dangerous endeavor to brush the restlessness off.

Stifling a burst of anxiety- Numbuh 362 is more than capable of taking care of herself. She must remember that- Numbuh 86 straightened and saluted. She never felt taller than when she stood before the Supreme Leader. Perhaps that was from her determination to look the most collected out of all her operatives.

"At ease." She mutters, only barely paying attention.

"Sorry fer the wait, sir. Ye know how it is."

Numbuh 362 nodded. Her eyes were sparking with curiosity, the yearning for something, _anything_ , to do that wasn't paperwork or the other typical duties of a leader. "Everything went well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Wally?"

"Ah, he'll be alright. S'just some shrapnel."

"Numbuh 86," she observes, "you're wearing a freshly-cleaned outfit."

Fanny hesitates. "Aye, sir."

"From the blood?"

More disheartened, this time. "Aye, sir."

Numbuh 362 leaned forward. Numbuh 86 has it on a good word that the girl has been under the knife a time or two, but very few outside of the med unit knew the ins-and-outs to much more than peeling a bandage. She knew more than the average field operative- no doubt about that- but nobody knew surgery like a medic knew surgery.

"Is it normally such a bloody affair?"

Numbuh 86 shuffled her boot. "Depends on the location, how deep it is, the like, sir."

"So they were deep."

"Some of them, yes."

Concern flared up in her eyes. Fanny's mother would tell her a girl like Numbuh 362 was a natural mother the moment she cried her first tears, and she had to agree.

"It's okay, sir. Standard procedure." This wasn't helping her case. Maybe a reminder of her skill would. "Done it a hundred times before."

"And Numbuh 3?"

"Poor girl has had better days, but it ain't like she's not pulled the gloves on before. Coupla root beers and she'll be better."

Numbuh 362 nipped at her bottom lip as she relaxed in her chair. She seemed to be considering something. "You wouldn't happen to have a few under your belt yourself, would you? I know you're no lightweight."

Numbuh 86 shook her head. She was of the firm opinion that one must face their immediate trauma sober. Better reaction, that way. Once the metaphorical bodies were buried and the dirt was cold, she'd take a weekend off.

(If only they were always metaphorical.)

"Gotta mission tonight, sir. Ain't no traitors gonna escape because I can't hold my blaster right."

The blonde-haired girl slipped out of her chair with an air of finality. "Let's get you something to eat before you go."

Numbuh 86 is too tired to argue. Numbuh 362 leads her by the shoulder into the cafeteria. She opens her mouth to remind her of professionalism, but a quick look from the Supreme Leader silences her.

She knows she's just being ushered out the door. But it makes her feel giddy nonetheless.

Halfway there they're cut-off by one of her own men. Numbuh 86 wants to deck him.

"We're ready for the okay, ma'am."

"Well, _I'm_ ready for a chili dog." She snapped, crossing her arms. Rachel watches silently from the sidelines.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded frantically, visibly uncomfortable. "Permission to speak to you alone, ma'am?"

"Not granted. Numbuh 362 is waiting, boy."

The soldier sighed. He stepped forward and whispered into her ear. Numbuh 86's whole posture changed. She seemed to be almost resigned when he stepped back.

"Stockpile on med kits." She said.

He saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Numbuh 86?"

"It's nothin', sir. May we go eat?"

Numbuh 86 is blocked by hands on her shoulders. Numbuh 362's brow is furrowed.

"It's such a nothing he had to whisper it like a kindergarten secret?"

The tone made her droop. She shoulda clobbered that idiot when she had the chance. "We've received word that the mission'll be a wee bit harder than we originally thought, is all. He wanted to make sure we were prepared."

"How bad?"

"Oh, no more so than usual." Numbuh 86 waved it off, heart aching. "Nothin' to worry about, sir."

Numbuh 362 doesn't seem convinced. She might not be so experienced on the field anymore, Fanny reflected, but that hadn't dulled her mind.

"Should I send backup with you? Do you want me to come?"

"No!" She yelped, horrified by the thought. So _that_ was her plan; to get out of paperwork by tagging along on a mission? "No offense, sir." She said apologetically. "But ye ain't been out much recently. It's too dangerous. I wouldn't take my most experienced soldier with me after even a long vacation."

What she'd hoped would dissuade instead brought a line of stubbornness to her mouth, hitching her shoulders as though preparing to fight the words themselves. "Numbuh 86, you're tired and hungry. You just got back from cutting open an operative. If you can handle this, so can I."

Numbuh 86 swallows a cry of protest. It wasn't often the Supreme Leader got the gumption to go on a mission, but it always led to disaster when she did. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Numbuh 86 doesn't miss being a medic. To stand apart from battle to instead handle injuries wasn't the life for her. It was why becoming Supreme Leader had been such a terror-inducing thought to her; she was here to fight, not to _help_ others fight.

"Listen up, ya ninnies! This is no longer a simple search and retrieval mission!" She yells, but doesn't scream, the inbetween her voice can get when she wants to be heard but not by the entire Moon Base.

Her men, used to her oddities, stand stiff and silent as she paces in front of them.

"Numbuh 362 herself has opted to join us. Ya know what that means." Numbuh 86's hands flap around. "How we carry ourselves today will be how the entirety of the Kids Next Door sees us. We must not fail!"

A soldier in the back raises a finger. "Ma'am?"

"WHAT?"

"Perhaps we should go on a less complex mission, then. One we can better control."

"No duh." She spits viciously, coming to a stop with her hands on her hips. "But there's no time. Our only hope is damage control."

Numbuh 86 points a rather accusing finger at the gathered soldiers. "All of ye are to shift yer main priority to Numbuh 362. She better always be accompanied."

"If we catch sight of the target?"

"Pursue 'em, of course! It's still our job. Otherwise, leave that ta' me."

"Numbuh 86?" The girl calls, stepping into the room. She'd slipped into another room to change into uniform, time Fanny knew she'd have to use wisely. There was no better way than to give a quick lecture.

She adjusts her helmet, obviously displeased with the sight located on the one side. "Is this right?"

"Aye, sir."

"It feels lopsided."

"You'll get used to it, sir." Numbuh 86 promises grimly.

* * *

It's a quiet flight. The stars are glittering as they cruise through the air. Not a cloud dots the sky. They watch from a distance as the treehouse they're skulking up to goes into emergency lockdownification. Someone mumbles a not-so-childish curse.

"I hope that didn't trip any of the alarms at the Moon Base." Numbuh 362 frets. "It'll cause a panic."

"Ain't no adults in there, sir. Just a traitor. Nothin'll go off."

They land and dismount. Salt from the sea tickles Fanny's nose as they move to the nearest blocked entrance. Two of her men begin to cut a hole for them to sneak through into the metal doors.

"Now, _that_ may set somethin' off." She admits.

"The position of this base is hazardous." Numbuh 362 replies, eyeing it with distaste. "Right on the edge of a cliff? I mean, what were they thinking?"

"That it looks cool?" Someone murmurs.

"If it wasn't solid, they'd've moved somewhere else by now." Numbuh 86 compromises.

Numbuh 362 grumbles but doesn't reply.

"We're in, ma'am." There's a loud, metallic crashing sound.

"Put those things in the ship and we'll be off. And keep it down, ya MORONS!"

They pull out their weapons and enter. The halls are dusty from lack of use; nobody has left this way in at least a few days.

"The rat is leader, so we oughta be careful." She whispers. "We might have the whole Sector against us."

Numbuh 362 lets out a small but distressed sound. "And if we do?"

"We'll erase 'em all, if we got to."

"State your purpose."

They all jump.

A computer pokes its way out of the ceiling, narrowing its lens at them.

"State your purpose." It repeats.

Numbuh 86 straightens. "We're gonna find the cowardly traitor hidin' in your walls and decommission him 'till he barely remembers his own name!"

"Ma'am." Someone whimpers.

"Shut up." She replies. If she can't stand down a robot, she can't stand down anything, and that would require her to leave her position. Screw robots.

"Incorrect purpose." It whirls. "Must be eliminated."

That's when the floor gives out.

* * *

Numbuh 86 seethes as she sits up amongst the rubble, checking the immediate area for her helmet. She finds it, slightly dented, and sets it back on her head.

"Alright." She spits. "Time fer war."

"Ma'am, we have some injured."

"If ya can't walk on it, have somebody take ya back to the ship." She insisted. Numbuh 86, burdened by the adrenaline and rage, felt she could beat the stuffing out of ten Sectors by herself, if need be.

All of a sudden, she felt very cold. "Sir?"

"Here." A weak voice called. Numbuh 362 had pulled herself away from the wreckage, a hand cupping her shoulder. She grimaced with pain. "I'll be alright."

 _Too scared to show weakness in front of your own men, are you?_ Numbuh 86 tests both feet, found one sprained, and stood up anyway. She turned an imposing eye to the decomissioning officers. "You lot go on ahead. Try and find the other traps you _know_ this lump has left lyin' about. We'll wait here to see if anybody comes checking for bodies."

Her second-in-command nods, giving a signal to the others. They disperse into the halls.

"Fanny?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you have any soda? I feel like I'm too sober to properly handle this."

"Yer in shock, and sugar won't make it any better." Fanny pushes weight forcefully onto her screaming ankle to manage a mostly stable walk over, crouching down with only a quiet grunt. "The pain'll do ya wonders in delirium as is."

Numbuh 362 briefly relinquishes pressure to allow examination. "Do I need surgery?"

"Some stitches, yeah." She sunk rather carelessly onto her bum, grabbing at the med kit strapped to her side.

"Are you up to doing this?"

"I just _did_ this."

"I know. That's why I'm asking."

Numbuh 86 admired the girl's courage. She's trembling, though, and it set her nerves off, but she too knew how to wrangle them down. "Certain."

She's hates to cut the sleeve, but it's the only option, sans taking the whole thing off, and that would stretch the wound.

"Real lucky, sir." She says as the first stitch goes in. "Not deep at all."

"Were Wally's deep?"

"Aye."

"How deep?"

"Sir, I'm not sure it's a good idea to discuss the gruelin' details while you're being poked and threaded."

"I know you're trying to take my mind off it, Fanny." She says. "So let's talk business."

Two more. Almost done already. "Coulda poked yer finger through some of 'em and not hit anythin'. Boy's got dumb luck on his side, that's fer certain."

"Do you miss it?"

"Cuttin' people open fer a living? Lord no."

"Not that. I meant being just kids."

Fanny finishes the stitches and pulls out a water bottle. "Bein' an operative has taught me a lot of things about myself, sir. I couldn't imagine it otherwise." She grinned lukewarmly as she unscrewed the cap. "My mind may forget, but my hands'll remember."

Numbuh 362 stiffens. "I hear something."

So did she. It was footsteps. "Sit back and keep drinking. I'll handle this." She forces the bottle into her hands and stands up. Her ankle is throbbing again.

"Fanny, you're limping."

"I don't need to run to do my job." She grit her teeth. "They're coming right fer us."

They sat in dark silence.

Out of the shadows came a small-built girl wielding a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. with shaking hands. She looked fresh out of boot camp, face soft with baby fat and hair tied back.

Numbuh 86's mouth is a firm line. "Do you know who yer pointin' that thing at?"

The girl flinched as if struck, but stood her ground. "A t-total jerkface!"

"Not _me_ , ya idjit, although I'll gladly take that comment outta yer hide later." Fanny waves a hand toward the stiffly-sitting Supreme Leader, speaking with an imperious tone. "This is yer _leader_. Are you gonna point a 2X4 weapon at yer _leader_?"

She faltered, eyes wide with horror.

"'Cause I'll be sure to give ya an extra beatin' before I blast ya if you do!"

"Fanny." Numbuh 362 hisses.

Fanny ignores her, although it's hard to. "You either put that weapon down, or the Kids Next Door'll be losin' _two_ operatives tonight. Yer choice."

The fight has left her eyes. She staggers to the damp floor, numb with grief. The S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. slips from her fingers.

"That's better." Numbuh 86 observes.

"I don't appreciate being used as blackmail, Numbuh 86." Numbuh 362 wheezes. Pain is glazing her eyes.

"I don't appreciate doin' it, sir." She admitted. She bites down the urge to make a more bitter retort. If Rachel hadn't wanted to get down and dirty, she should have never tagged along. "You, girl! Get yer leader outta here. I'll finish this up quick."

Fanny half-expects a complaint, but the operative rises without a sound. Her eyes are dark as she passes, whispering. "He was my leader."

"He was also yer brother." She returns, because she _does_ look these things up before she leaps.

She sees a great decomissioning officer in her. She hopes she'll be asked soon.

* * *

The rest is boring dribble. Numbuh 86 meets up with her team and pushes on. There's no real chase; he flings himself off a cliff, and there's another surgery Fanny must do. The poor boy loses his arm.

Well, not really poor. She wants to chop the other one off herself. What moron throws himself off a cliff with no safety gear, with no proper falling technique? It takes all her sense of duty to finish the procedure. It takes more than that to pat his knee and play the innocent little girl after his decomissioning and tell him, "There's been an accident, and it knocked your brain about."

She gets asked. She tells her she wants to say yes right away, but it's not proper procedure. The fire doesn't go out this time.

Rachel gives her a questioning look when she visits her at the med ward, wearing a more proper dressing and a slightly chastised frown, but she holds up a six pack of cola as an answer.

"It's not good fer ya, but I figured you wouldn't care."

"Drink with me?"

"I'm still on the clock, sir."

"Not anymore, you're not."

Numbuh 86 bows her head. She doesn't have the will to want to refuse.

 **Author's Note: If you listen hard enough, you can hear the pure Do It For Her playing in the background.**

 **-Mandaree1**


End file.
